


Charity

by TheDweeb



Series: FFXIVWrite2018 [14]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Elezen (Final Fantasy XIV), Feel-good, Fluff, Gen, Tumblr: FFXIVwrite2018, Ul'dah (Final Fantasy XIV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 10:13:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18963181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDweeb/pseuds/TheDweeb
Summary: Charity would not fix their problems, but it would give them hope. All he needed was time for the rest.





	Charity

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt 23 of FFXIVWrite2018

Ul’dah: the glittering jewel of the desert where dreams came true and fortunes were made. At least, that was how it appeared on the surface. Like any good glamour, however, the ugliness that lay beneath was expertly concealed until it was too late. Clementain had learned that the hard way during his exodus from the Shroud.

In spite of the odds stacked against him, he had managed to claw his way up from nothing. He started as a prisoner then became a gladiator where he gained enough skill to be renowned by the whole of the Jewel of Thanalan. That renown had gained him a patron which had netted him more wealth and solid investments, plus good spending habits, kept the coin flowing even after his career change into adventuring. The Jewel’s tarnish had tried to stick to him but he had come out shining brighter than he been going in; at least outwardly.

Looking around the Sapphire Exchange, the average person could see the glamour of Ul’dah in its full effect. Commerce and trade flourished while the nobles engaged in silent warfare with fashion and extravagant spending. However, if one wrong turn was made the spell would break and all the glitter would vanish like the pickpocket with the lost victim’s gil purse. Ala Mhigan refugees could not afford to flash their coin and were lucky to have shirts on their backs, and due to the large disparity in wealth there were many orphans running the streets. Ul’dah was a carbuncle; both a glittering gem and a festering sore.

“Hey, mister. Mister!”

He stopped mid-stride, hand on his coin purse, before looking at the group of children that stood in a haphazard line. They were not quiet in the Exchange, but they were closer than most adults dared to venture. Their boldness coaxed a small smile out of him which was mirrored on the face of the child that had called out.

“Spare some gil so’s we c’n eat?” the tiny voice wheedled while the other children tried to nonchalantly move away from their obvious ringleader.

“Only if you all keep in my sight. That includes you, behind me,” he replied evenly, and he even managed to reign in a grin as all the children stopped mid step and went wide eyed.

His one hand remained on his gil purse while the other moved to his hip as he waited. A small, lalafellin child crept around him from his back to join her friends, and once all the children were lined up he motioned their leader forward. He kept his hands visible at all times–who knew how many hands had brought cruelty upon those before him–and remained calm as they discussed amongst themselves. They were being smart and he felt a surge of pride as they heatedly debated in hushed tones the pros and cons of the scenario.

In the best case, he was a genuine article who would give them a lump sum to distribute amongst themselves. He could also very well be a slaver waiting to pounce on unsuspecting, and desperate, youth. Sure, slavery was prohibited, but when had legality been an issue for degenerates? There had been many reasons for his departure from the Bloodsands, and true freedom had only been part of it.

“Wait, wait!” he heard one of the children hiss. “I know that one, I seen ‘im afore! Tha’s The Tower!”

It had been several years since he had become an adventurer; long enough that he was surprised that even one of the children knew his title from the Bloodsands. The fact that the majority of the group seemed to get decidedly more excited sent his eyebrows to his hairline. Despite having been a fairly popular fighter he had never quite gotten used to any of the fanfare that came with it. There was old and new blood, like Franz the Fair, who soaked it up like a sponge, yet he was wary of it, shy and skittish like a spooked chocobo.

Where before he had been regarded with suspicion, kept farther than arm’s length, he was now crowded like a mother chocobo with her chicks. If any of his former associates, and opponents, came upon him they would likely laugh. As it was, he managed to retain remarkable composure though he was unable to answer even one of the hundreds of questions being lobbed at him like a mage’s spells.

“Alright, alright,” he said as he held up his hands, purse removed from his belt to be held aloft. “One at a time, please.”

“Are you really The Stalwart Tower?!” the lalafellin girl asked, big blue eyes going somehow even wider in awe.

“I was. I have since retired.”

“Me da used t’work at the Coliseum puttin’ up fliers,” another child, the one who had first recognized him, said. “Brought me one home, s’how I knew it were you. ‘E told me all ‘bout your fights, how you was all POW an’ no one could move you a single ilm!”

It stood to reason that fliers with his likeness would have been kept by people that enjoyed his particular performances in the coliseum. Many had thought it odd that he would choose to be so defensive in team battles, but it fit him well enough. He had been told so often in his life that he was too stubborn that it only seemed fitting for him to be the wall that refused to topple in the storm. Oh, it had come to bite him hard enough many a time, but overall it was a sound strategy and even in single combat his shield was a stalwart companion that aided him.

Despite his initial command of “one at a time,” very soon Clementain was overwhelmed by more questions until he cleared his throat loudly and shook the gil purse. The rattle of coins broke through the excitement and he found himself on the receiving end of several stares that shared remarkable semblance with many of the creatures he had faced in the wild. Stars had faded from view and reality came screaming back to remind them of their empty bellies. Fortunately, though the Stalwart Tower did not bend to his foes he was willing to break for those less fortunate than he.

“Hands out,” he commanded and was promptly obeyed much to his surprise and delight.

A small stack of coins was deposited, carefully and gently, into each little palm. His face remained neutral as eyes went wide again, and he knew that his charity would only go so far. They would still be orphans, would still be poor, but perhaps those coins could give them just enough that they could hold out until he was able to make a real difference. That was all he had ever wanted, a chance to do something good that would matter.

“Now, don’t spend it all on sweets and make sure you hold it tight.”

“Yessir!”

Smiling as the giggling chorus scampered off with their newfound wealth, Clementain reattached his much lighter purse to his belt before resuming his previous course. If Miss Sellers wondered why he looked so happy she would keep it to herself, just as he would keep those smiling faces close to his heart.


End file.
